


Highlander!Claire

by ke_xia



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 00:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4543923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ke_xia/pseuds/ke_xia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Jamie is the one who fell from 1945 to 1743 and Claire is the injured soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of prompts sent in to [Imagine Claire & Jamie](http://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/tagged/highlander!claire) on tumblr, written by Mod Eli. (That's me!) I'm posting them here for easier reading and in case there's anyone over here on AO3 who might not be on tumblr. Do feel free to check the blog out, though, and send in prompts if you have more ideas for our favorite pair!  
> \---
> 
> First, to begin with a bit of backstory. James Fraser was born in 1921 and was later a combat medic in WWII. After the war was over, he was back home and traveling from Inverness to Lallybroch when he came across Craigh na Dun and stumbled through the stones to 1743. 
> 
> Claire MacKenzie Fraser was born in 1716 of Ellen MacKenzie and an unknown English officer who had raped her. Ellen later married Brian Fraser, who raised Claire as his own daughter. Claire, now 27, is considered an old maid (though is still very desirable to the young men of her time) and has so far turned down at least three suitors, refusing to marry for anything but love (much to the displeasure of her entire family.) Circumstances in the Highlands have grown rather dangerous with the English, and, after assaulting an officer of His Majesty’s army, she now hides with the MacKenzie Clan, her mother’s kin, to keep out of the hands of the dragoons.
> 
> Claire has an interest in healing, but spends more time fighting these days than practicing her craft.
> 
> \-----
> 
> Note: If you'd like to read more of this AU, you are more than welcome to follow the roleplay that Allie and I are currently writing together. I've called it [Common Interests.](http://nigheanxdonn.tumblr.com/tagged/%5Bcommon%20interests%5D/chrono)

> Imagine Jamie is the one who fell from 1945 to 1743 and Claire is the injured soldier. I’d love to see any scene from the book from this perspective, honestly.

Murtagh didn’t seem entirely pleased to have brought the stranger here, particularly not with the way said stranger was eyeing up his goddaughter. Claire sat on a low stool, breathing heavily through her nose, furious that anyone had gotten the best of her. She prided herself on her fighting skills, learned from her father and Uncle Dougal themselves. And she was a bonny fighter, but not everyone was perfect all the time- not even Dougal. Her arm hung at an unnatural angle and she hissed in pain anytime someone touched the thing. 

“The English will be swarming over these hills by daybreak,” Dougal growled. “We canna linger much longer, lass.”

“Ye’ll have to put it back in,” Claire huffed. “I canna ride like this.”

“Right. Murtagh.” Dougal nodded at the young woman, then stepped up behind her to hold onto her so she’d be still.

Murtagh made a face, then glanced around at the other men, clearly wanting anyone else but himself to have to do it. But Claire wasn’t about to let anyone else touch her and she gave him a firm scowl before jerking her chin toward her shoulder. Sighing, he moved in and took hold of her arm, ready to jerk it back into place.

Jamie had been standing by, watching the scene unfold with a look of wonder and utter confusion. They didn’t trust him because he’d been wandering around their lands with no proper excuse to explain his presence. Of course, there were his clothes, too, that must surely seem odd to them. Trousers, shirt, and shoes, the materials so different from what they were used to. Then, there was the fact that this group had clearly been up to no good when he’d stumbled upon them tramping through the wood chasing and being chased by the Red Coats. There was something about the woman, though- for woman she was, despite the breeks she wore and the loose shirt that hung half off her slender shoulder.

Jamie was fairly certain she had half- if not all- these men wrapped around her little finger. They wouldn’t leave her behind, English or no, but with her shoulder dislocated as it was, there was definitely no way she could ride. He stood back, watching curiously; but when he realized what the man named Murtagh was about to do, he leapt forward. “Stop! Stop it! Ye canna do it like that, ye’ll break her arm!” 

Every man stepped forward, moving into his way, and Jamie released an annoyed huff. He glanced down at the woman, then back to the man who’d been about to jerk her arm into place. “I willna hurt her. I’m a me- I’m a physician. I ken what to do,” he assured them. They still seemed doubtful, though, and he let out a heavy sigh. “And if I do hurt her, ye can do whatever ye like with me. Just– dinna try to jam the shoulder back in. Ye’ve got to rotate the arm first.”

It seemed he did know what he was doing, and with a glance back at Claire, who gave a nod, the men parted and allowed Jamie to step forward. He moved in and knelt before her, offering her a soft, reassuring smile. Murtagh promptly slapped him over the head in warning, then stepped back to leave them to it. 

“It’ll no’ be pleasant, but once I get it back in, you’ll no’ feel as much pain. Ready?”

“Aye, get on with it, then.”

He took hold of her arm, marveling at how small it seemed in his big hands. She was even more beautiful up close, and Jamie wondered just what the hell someone so lovely was doing with a group of beasts like this. He slowly shifted her arm around, making her groan softly in pain. She waved Murtagh off when he began to step forward, but her amber eyes were locked, intent on Jamie. He gave her a look as if to ask one more time whether she was ready, and, once she’d set her jaw and Dougal had a firm hold of her, Jamie popped the shoulder back into its joint. 

A Gaelic curse drifted from her lips and she bent forward a little, panting. “Whiskey,” she requested gruffly, and three flasks were held out. As Claire reached for one with her right hand, Jamie caught the arm and held it against her side. 

“Ye canna use this arm for at least a week.” Then he leaned back to pull his belt off while she scowled at him and reached for a flask with her left hand. She didn’t seem to take her eyes off him, either, as he buckled the belt across her body, carefully securing the injured arm in place. 

“Good. I take it ye can ride now?” Dougal questioned, though it was clear he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. “Ye’ll ride with her, lad, make sure she doesna fall. But if ye touch her wrong, I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to ye for supper, aye?”

Claire opened her mouth in protest, but Dougal tossed a plaid at her and turned to stomp out of the cottage before either of them could say another word. Grumbling softly, Claire managed to get the plaid wrapped around her shoulders with Murtagh’s help, then she stood. “Thank ye,” she said softly, lingering for a moment to study Jamie before turning away to head out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

> anonymous said:  
> Can you possibly do a follow up to the fic you did where Jamie and Claire's roles were reversed? He was the time traveller and she was the highlander.

Mrs. FitzGibbons had helped Claire undress down to her shift, and she sat now before the fire with a blanket wrapped tightly around herself, feeling terribly exposed to this strange man they’d brought back. Her amber gaze watched him closely, noting the herbs he used, the fascinating way he boiled the strips of cloth he was using. Germs, he’d said. Whatever those were. Either way, she enjoyed watching him work. His hands were so big, they didn’t seem like they should have the kind of softness that they had. Never before had Claire met a man who could heal like Jamie could. She felt drawn to him, and she couldn’t deny it to herself, though she absolutely would deny it should anyone else mention her fascination. 

“Ye’re a different sort of woman than most, aren’t ye, Claire?” Jamie asked as he moved behind her to examine the wound. Very gently, he pulled the blanket aside and his fingers brushed over her skin as he slid the shift down off her shoulder. Goosebumps bubbled up over her skin and he found himself watching them with a sort of wonder. He twirled a few dark strands of hair around his finger and tucked them up behind her ear to keep them out of the way.

She snorted at his question. “Aye, ye could say that, I suppose. Tend to find myself in more trouble than no’. Dougal says I take after my mother, ken.” Claire hissed softly as he dabbed at the wound, carefully cleaning it and inspecting the work he’d hastily done on the roadside. 

“Oh? And what is she like?”

She sighed and tipped her head to the side a little, wincing at the strain on both the bullet wound and her aching shoulder joint. She stared into the fire for a bit, remembering the woman who had loved her- despite everything that had happened to bring about Claire’s own existence. “She was headstrong,” she began, a smile playing on her lips. “And she loved like no other.”

Jamie was silent as Claire spoke of her mother, his hands continuing their gentle work, though he paused often to ask a question or to listen more closely to some part of those stories that she shared with him. He was always close, a blazing warmth all but pressed against her back, and Claire found herself wanting to lean back against him. He could wrap his arms around her and warm her far better than the blanket she wore ever could.

“She sounds like she was an amazing woman. And your father, is he alive?”

A shadow crossed Claire’s features and she dropped her head a little, dark memories flitting across her vision. She still remembered his face, the last time she’d seen him in the halls of Fort William. He’d been so pale with worry then, and she’d blamed herself for being imprisoned, for not being around to see that he got enough rest, to see that he was cared for properly when he fell ill. Word reached Lallybroch that ye were dead, lass. It was the loss of ye broke his heart, they say. 

Brian Fraser had not been her sire, but he had been her father in every way that had mattered, and Claire’s own heart ached to think of the loss of him. “He is not,” she said simply. Then, she added softly, “But he was a very good man.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Jamie murmured, his breath warm against the back of her neck as he gently pressed a fresh bandage to her shoulder. He moved around to kneel before her so he could tie the bandage across her chest and was startled to find tears running down her cheeks. He made a distressed noise and reached for a clean, dry bandage to dab at her tears, gently pulling her into his arms. She sobbed into his shoulder for for a while and he stroked her hair, murmuring soothingly to her. 

It seemed to work well enough, for eventually, she pulled back a little and lifted a hand to swipe at her wet cheeks. Claire reached with her bad arm, though, and made a pained noise when her shoulder protested the movement. It was growing stiff and painful, swollen from misuse. Jamie jumped at the sound and moved to gently tuck her elbow in against her side.

“Aye, I’ll just be wrapping this back up, too, then ye can be on your way. You’ll be needing a good night’s rest in your own bed tonight.” Before he began to wrap her arm, though, he reached up to thumb away a stray tear from her face, his own eyes glittering with unspoken emotion as he gazed at her.

“I suspect ye will be needin’ the same,” she mused quietly, blinking a few times to clear her eyes. Her lips twitched a little toward a smile. “Ye dinna seem much used to ridin’ all night, for a man on the run.”

Something else flashed across his gaze before he lowered it to pay attention to his work. Jamie wrapped the bandage round Claire’s slim waist then tied it off, checking to ensure her arm was secure against her side. “Well, I tend to go on foot. Dinna have the money for a horse, ken. Anyway, it’s easier to hide a single man in the heather than it is a man and a horse,” he explained quickly before standing. “All finished, Miss MacTavish. Will I walk ye to your room, then?”

She stood, ran her good hand over her wild curls, then quickly tugged the blanket in around herself as she shook her head. “I’ll be fine, Mr. Fraser. I thank ye for yer help,” she said softly as she stepped toward the door.

Jamie hurried over to open the door for her, then watched with bright eyes as she stepped out into the dimly lit hall. “Sleep well, Claire,” he breathed.

She glanced over her shoulder at him with a small smile, then dipped her head and turned to stride away.


End file.
